Deliquesce
by Paperclip-Mentality
Summary: Sociology is the game of cultured peoples who break the rules to bend the rules to make the laws and this is their lunch break. Crime story AU, GrimmUlqui, GinIzu, AiUlqui
1. We're All Mad Here

Taking a break from the introspective drabbles and attempting another multi-chapter story. Except this time, unlike very single time before, I've got an outline. -insert golf claps here- So its less likely to crash and burn two chapters in.

Disclaimer- I don't own Bleach. But that's alright because my Tide detergent works just fine. -cheap shot-

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_Deliquesce- verb [ intrans. ](of organic matter) become liquid, typically during decomposition._

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_If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?_

_-Lewis Carroll, __Alice in Wonderland_

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A set of hands rubbed at a pair of tired brown eyes, trying to rid them of the sleep lurking there before traveling up through the mop of cropped orange hair above as the owner of all the features stifled a yawn.

"Hey Rookie, came to check on you. Heard Byakuya's making you do all the reports for the case." Ichigo started slightly as the fond but muted voice of Urahara sounded in front of him. The younger man let out a noncommittal noise of greeting as he looked at the blond seated at the other side of his desk. "That the journal he left us?" Another noise and a slight nod as the cop-for-half-a-year -now looked down at the passage he'd just read.

_Some people hate this city; some people love it. I am under the firm impression that the ones who hate it are sorely misguided. They are the ones who are too scared to live, too scared to die. They have never truly seen what this city has to offer. They have never walked the streets with a pleasant smile of their lips until a particularly innocent face catches their eye. They have never purposefully knocked against that pretty face and made her spill her bag, only to stop and help her scoop up its contents and ask her if she'd like to accompany you for a bite of lunch or a cup of coffee. The people that hate this city have never known the rush of satisfaction one gets from having that very same face in their bed later that night, flushed, pleading and wanton. They are the ones who haven't bothered to cave in to the pleading and give her the pure carnal rush of pleasure she so desires only to slit her throat a second later- with perfect accuracy, there are never screams- and watch her blood bloom on the white sheets that you put on the bed that morning- just for the occasion. They have never played a game. No, I stand by my belief that the people who will spit on the sidewalks and call this city disgusting have never bothered to take a cleaning rag and rub at the layers of dirt and grime until they can see what a gem she truly is. The poor fools… _

'The poor fools…' There was more beyond that but at this point he didn't think he could stomach it- maybe on Monday after he'd had the weekend to sleep away the images that seemed seared on the inside of his eyelids. A flash of blue hair, a glimpse of a Cheshire cat like grin, a laughing woman- beauty mark below her lower lip, the somber eyes of the criminal profiler who'd worked just down the hall from him, a gun pressed to black hair via a pallid hand. One after another like the cast shots from a new movie. It was all too fresh and raw.

"Hey, Ichigo-" he hadn't even realized his eyes were closed once again until Urahara's hand was ruffling his hair affectionately. "Go home and get some sleep, you've earned it. The reports can wait until you're ready- special permission from the director." The young ginger cracked a slight smile as he stood from his padded chair, reaching over to grab his plain black coat.

"Thanks," he mumbled, fumbling briefly with the sleeves. "But don't worry; I'll have them in on Monday. They'd all have liked that."

_Three months earlier-----_

Normally, Gin mused as he stood before a door that could, in his professional opinion, use a coat of paint. Normally, a man who made a living out of being a thief and a con-man would not be so willing to just hand off the wad of bills he was fingering in his left hand. But even he had to admit defeat sometimes and accept the fact that wit and smooth talking couldn't get you everywhere. Sometimes, you had to call in a bit of muscle- and Grimmjow Jeagerjaques was without a doubt the man for the job. They had an odd partnership and so far he'd found it lucrative to keep it as smooth as he could.

"C'mon Grimmy, open up. I know yer in there," he rapped sharply in the door with a pale hand- the boisterous man had to be in, unless the building was haunted and the ghosts had a habit of buzzing people up. Another knock-bordering on a pound- honestly, he didn't have all night. This time it was greeted with more than silence- an indistinct muffle, followed by a thump, a string of oaths and curses and finally the door opened to reveal a faintly disheveled man in a baggy shirt and a pair of boxers.

"I was sleeping you ass," he muttered, letting out a faint groan as Gin ducked under his arm and waltzed in to the apartment as though _he_ was the one paying the rent on the place. Manners weren't his strong point but at least he didn't invite himself in to people's houses… Christ… Would someone please do society a favor and sign that man up for some etiquette classes?

"Yer a horrid liar, you haven't slept in a shirt in years," the perpetually grinning man retorted smoothly, unaffected by the scowl he was receiving- His lips might as well be glued upwards in a smile and sometimes he thought Grimmjow had come out of the womb with that annoyed look on his face. "Now, do ya want this or not?" The silver haired man brandished the rubber banded wad of cash at the other with all the grandeur and over done drama of a magician revealing his final trick of the night- the one that required a volunteer from the audience. "'Cause I'll take it if yer not interested…" Almost instantly Grimmjow was alert, all grogginess gone from his piercing blue eyes as he snagged the money out of Gin's slim fingered hand.

"Payoff already?" he questioned, sounding as though Christmas had come early as he twisted the rubber band of his prize, looping it over his wrist. "You said it would take at least another week-"

"I lied," the con-man hummed, flopping down on to the slightly sagging couch to properly take in the show that was Grimmjow totaling up his spoils. "Ye know you can't trust anyone in our line a' work Grimm." He let out a breathy chuckle as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of coat pocket, leaning forward to sort through the mess of magazines and assorted items on the low coffee table- batteries, no- remote, no- loose change, no- lighter, yes. The blue haired man rolled his eyes slightly as he glanced up from his counting, an exasperated sigh passing his lips as Gin let the cigarette dangling from his own mouth.

"You know- Just because you bring me cash doesn't mean I like you rifling through my shit whenever you feel like it-" The only response he got was a lazy, smoke filled exhale of breath and a smirk. It was a losing battle he supposed, the first time they'd combined forces should have been enough to teach him that much at least. Instead of wasting his breath he returned to his counting. "What- Just over a thousand-? You were so desperate for my help I was expecting a little bit more than just a grand-"

"A'right then, let's go over this bit by bit," Gin retorted with a dry smirk, kicking off his shoes in a sort of haphazard manner and crossing his black slack covered legs on couch Indian style. "Ye did what exactly- roughed up a couple people t' keep 'em quiet? An' I did? Ah, that's right… Everything else. And wait- Who was the target? A lil' Mom an' Pop store- 'fraid this was more for the sport of it than anythin' else, those places just don't tend t' have the biggest payoffs fer some reason. Take yer portion an' be happy with it." He arched an eyebrow, silently inviting Grimmjow to voice any more complaints he might have. Grimmjow was stubborn and brash- a bit temperamental as well but he wasn't an idiot, he knew when the odds were stacked against him.

"You are so fucking lucky I like the cash and free therapy dealing with your ass gets me," the other man muttered, sounding vaguely murderous as he set the wad of money down on the table beside the remote and stray quarters. "Do I get to kick you out of my house now or are you going to insist on sticking around for half the night and drinking my beers?" Gin chuckled, holding his steadily smoldering cigarette between his lips as he reached down to tug his shoes on as abruptly as he had taken them off- one yank, two yanks and he was street ready.

"I was gonna actually but I've had a change of heart. Get dressed- we're goin' to the bar. I'll buy ya a drink-"

"Did you smoke some pot on the way over instead of just tobacco or are you feeling generous for once in your scumbag life?" It was a strange turn of events but Grimmjow wasn't about to complain- not when there was a shot at a free scotch or something equally as good. He glanced around the cluttered apartment trying to figure out where he might have chucked his jeans the last time he'd gotten back from the laundry matt. If he was living in a more upscale part of the city- or if he actually cared about locating things in a timely manner, he might have hired a cleaning person. But as it stood, in this neighborhood, if you hired someone to pick up your shit they'd probably end up nicking half of it and doing a half assed job with the stuff you had left. Wasn't worth it.

"Actually, I was thinkin' a' pickin' someone up for the night- And no offence Grimmy but I'd rather have more choices than just you," the silver haired man took one more drag on his cigarette before pressing it to the cracked coaster on the table in front of him, dousing the ember. He was fond of getting in a drink and a nice one night stand are a successful job-it was like a personal celebration- and the last time he'd stuck around Grimmjow's place for that they'd gotten dangerously tipsy off the pack of Budweiser in his fridge and uncomfortably close to screwing each other in the kitchenette because of it. He wouldn't call himself straight but the blue haired man also wasn't what he'd call his type- he liked them rather thin and unsure instead of well built and… obnoxious.

As Grimmjow scanned the clothes scattered around for another sock he also kept half an eye on the silver haired man standing by his door. An offer for a drink was strange- They couldn't exactly be called friends. In fact, half the time he wanted nothing more than to crack Gin's head open and he was the sure the other had homicidal urges towards him hidden in his weird, subtle, reverse psychology laden mannerisms. But their partnership was indeed lucrative for both of them and when they got past the personality barrier there were small things they had in common. They both liked getting a drink. Grimmjow because, hell, he'd made it past twenty-one and he'd be damned if he didn't take advantage of all the things he could get away with. And Gin, probably because it gave him an excuse to unnerve people more than he normally did, but he'd never bothered to ask to see if he was right. And neither of them bothered with long term relationships of the sexual sort- You weren't living if you were tied to someone by the ball and chain of commitment and when one looked at dating long term that normally involved looking in to your emotions and expressing your feelings. A strong point of neither man. But, he mused, beyond that… He made a living out of odd jobs and roughing people up- things you didn't have to think about doing to be able to do. He'd always preferred putting his brain power to different uses. Gin was the polar opposite as he constantly sized people up mentally, ran them in circles with words until he could pick out their weak points and then exploited those weak points to somehow make enough cash to support himself. All while somehow enjoying it and making a game out of the whole ordeal. Sounded like a headache and a half to Grimmjow.

After a good many pained moans of 'c'mon, hurry up' followed by a few 'I ain't payin' if you don't move faster than that' the two men found themselves started down in the street in a temporary truce. It must have been around ten thirty and the street lights were illuminating their way as they traversed cigarette butts and loose pages from last week's newspaper. Grimmjow had chosen to take up residence in a place that wasn't the cleanest nor the most refined part of the city but just like anywhere else, when you lived there awhile you started calling it home. You grew desensitized to the boarded up doors and windows and instead of screaming 'empty' those buildings clued you in to the fact that they were probably inhabited by a handful of law enforcement evading squatters who'd give you a mildly interesting story and a good laugh in return for a couple bucks. And for the most part the cops just left them alone. Sure, they'd come down and round up anyone with a record if a big crime took place but if people wanted to throw punches at each other or get drunk outside the safety of their own homes or a bar they'd turn a blind eye. Gin himself had bought himself a cozy little flat a couple blocks away from the blue haired man with the idea of staying under the radar and so far it was working wonderfully- He could have afforded a better place most likely, off the profits that petty theft and minor con brought in but he didn't want it. He got his laughs and avoided honest work this way, along with a roof over his head and a comfortable bed. Better than dealing with people in suits that had sticks shoved way up past their colons any day.

Grimmjow pushed open the door before them and was instantly greeted by the shouts of patrons as they nursed their beers while watching the football game being broadcast on the screen above the worn wooden bar ;coupled with the liquor laced of the few people that had been there since six and downed a good couple drinks for every hour they'd been seated on the faux leather stools.

"There'd better not be any catches to this free drink business," he stated as they made their way over to a couple unoccupied seats at the far end, sparing the score on the TV a brief glance before sitting down.

"Naw," Gin drawled, twisting side to side on the stool for a few seconds before coming to a stop again, facing the wide variety of liquor bottles across from him with a broad grin. "I jus' finished a job an' my favorite person in the whole wide world's workin' tonight. I think I'm in too good a mood for games… but then I jus' lied there so I guess not." He tipped his stool forward slightly on to the bar slightly, elbows propped up on it as he leaned in to catch the attention of the bar maid about three quarters down- a woman with wavy ginger hair, plump lips and what a cheesy romance novel would have labeled voluptuous breasts. "Rangiku." No response. The well-endowed woman remained engaged in a conversation with another customer who she was pouring a beer for. "Rangiku-" A little bit louder this time with more sing song mixed in to the syllables but still no response.

"Matsumoto, get your tits over here-" Grimmjow that time, gruff and with no amount of modesty or discretion. But at least it got her attention. Matsumoto slammed the recently poured beer down on the bar before the somewhat shabby looking man with a certain amount of restrained furry as the words reached her ears before marching over. With no hesitation she yanked a towel out from underneath the counter and whipped Grimmjow over the head with it. The blue haired man rubbed the side of his face where the towel had lashed him and it wasn't until he gave her a peeved look that the scowl on her face melted away to a slight smile.

"Its okay Grimm," she crooned, leaning forward the pat him on the head, which only served to expose more of her cleavage from the top of her loosely buttoned blouse. "I could have hit you _much_ harder. Now, what brings you two here _together_ without Grimmjow looking like he's going to commit triple homicide and what can I get you?"

"Neither of us wanted t' risk almost fuckin' each other again," Gin drawled, not bothering to suppress the smirk on his features at Grimmjow's towel lashing. Matsumoto was well aware of her assets and she certainly didn't bother to try and hide them beneath layers of fabric like other women, but there were only a few people on the face of the planet who could get away with mentioning them crudely or, god forbid, _flirting_ with her without suffering dire consequences. He was one of them; the man to his right obviously was not. "An' two beers will do jus' fine."

"You told her about that-?!" Grimmjow questioned, looking sort of aghast as the orange haired woman chuckled and set the tall amber drink down before him. The fact that they hadn't actually fucked each other made it slight bearable but that was one of the last things he wanted- People thinking he was interested in Gin. Ugh- no, just no.

"What?" the silver haired man arched an eyebrow at his companion of the rim of his glass as he took a swallow. "She'd a' found out anyway. She's got the power of _boobs_ on 'er side Grimm. She knows everythin'." And that was sort of true. Matsumoto probably knew more about the people coming in through the bar door than they knew about themselves. Down on their luck blokes would tell her about their wife's infidelity issues over a drink. The occasional policeman passing through would accidentally let some information about their latest case slip as she joked around and got a few laughs out of them. She was the informant that many people on either side of the law would sell their soul for, but neither side had her because she didn't flaunt what she knew unless you were a friend.

"Its true," the ginger woman agreed with a slight grin, watching, as the two men across from her didn't hesitate to start in on their drinks. "And speaking of things I know about, have you heard about these murders lately?" Her tone had shifted to one that was somewhere between serious and a gossip revealing a particularly good bit of news as she waited for some sort of confirmation from either male.

"Course," Grimmjow stated, rolling his eyes slightly. He knew what she was talking about but he couldn't say he founded all that interesting- Just a bunch of women in the wrong place at the wrong time or something. "It's all over the fucking news."

"Ah-" Matsumoto breathed looking triumphant. "But the news isn't telling you the best parts of the stuff. I had a young police chap in here the other day- seemed quite taken with me and he said that it's a serial killer." Gin raised an eyebrow slightly, taking another sip of his beer. Most of the gossip Matsumoto got out of people was essentially useless, fun to know, but useless. The stuff that came from cops was a different story.

"Go on," he prodded, leaning forward slightly. The ginger liked to know she had the attention of her audience. "The news 's makin' 'em out t' sound random. Unlinked in anyway."

"Well of course they are. How do you think people would react if they knew there was a serial killer stalking the streets?" she scoffed slightly but propped her elbows up on the bar anyway, leaning in conspiratorially. "The news is saying that the victims are all random and that the method of killing is random so there's no way they're connected. But apparently the killer alternates between slitting their throats and putting a bullet in their brain. And the victims aren't random- they're all woman and none of them are over thirty. And-" she paused taking a breath and noticing the fact that Grimmjow was now listening intently as well with a note of pride. Nobody could resist news about a serial killer. Because whether or not people were willing to admit it everyone had a certain amount of morbid fascination with that stuff. "Here's the best part that's being left out of the TV and newspaper reports. All the victims are found on public benches or the like propped up in these really lady like posses and all of them have a standard size index card between their right middle and index finger that has a quote about innocence on it." Grimmjow let out a low whistle as the bar maid stood back up fully, her story apparently done. Serial killer indeed. This was the sort of action the city only saw once in a couple decades. Murder, theft, extortion, embezzlement, they had it covered on a daily basis. But serial killers were like a completely different breed of human. Still, if he had to guess he probably would be back to not caring in the morning. He was under thirty, sure, but he wasn't a woman so he didn't have anything to worry about. And surviving these days meant looking out for yourself first and foremost.

"Ye've done quite well with that lil' batch of gossip haven't ya?" Gin questioned, sitting up again as well and drumming his fingers against his glass in a sort of absentminded manner. If the police thought there was somebody systematically whacking ladies then now would probably be a good time to start laying low- Just in case. The last little con job would cover his rent for the month anyway.

"Well I've got you to thank for that," Matsumoto sighed slightly, reaching out to snag the now empty beer glass from under his nose. "Wouldn't be around to collect gossip if not for you."

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" the blue haired man to Gin's right questioned, making a slight face as his glass was taken despite the fact that it still had a swallow or two left in it. The dynamics between the other two always left his head spinning slightly. It was a little bit like trying to understand German when the only language you've ever studied is Japanese.

"Saved her life when we were teens now didn' I?" the petty thief drawled, propping his chin up in his palm with a lazy smile. "An' since it looks like I ain't getting' laid tonight; how 'bout a thank you kiss Ran'?" The ginger woman let out a sort of huffish sigh, making a production of turning around and placing their glasses with the other used ones from that night before she faced the two men again. With a faint smile playing around the corners of her mouth she leaned in over the counter so that she was a few inches away from Gin. The grin on the silver haired man's lips stretched wider in to something the Cheshire cat would have been proud of before it disappeared just as quickly as Matsumoto smacked him up side the head.

"How about no, you fruit?" she retorted wryly, standing back up fully and adjusting her shirt. "You haven't slept with a girl since you were seventeen, I wouldn't want you to break your streak over me. And anyway- You missed your chance. I'm going steady now, remember?"

"Yer still seein' that forensics guy?" Gin questioned with a faintly pained groan as he sat up straight once more as well, twisting in his stool slightly. "He's a midget, Rangiku. How do ya expect t' get laid like that?"

"You just don't like the fact I'm dating someone who works with the police force and could put your sorry, grinning ass behind bars," was the quick retort as he earned himself a frown for his commentary. "He's a perfectly reasonable guy and some of us care about more than intercourse in a relationship." Grimmjow snorted slightly and let out a cough in to his hand that sounded suspiciously like 'women'. A second later he was forced to slide quickly off his stool and take a few hasty steps backwards to avoid another blow from Matsumoto. Getting whipped with a towel was one thing; he'd pass on landing himself with a nice bright red mark on his cheek from a backhand. That was the sort of stuff you only wanted to sport if you'd genuinely earned it.

"Whatever," the other man added, standing as well. "I'm goin' home before it gets too late an' I'm accused a' bein' our resident serial killer. Give lil' 'Shiro my best." The last comment came out in a sing songy hum that was followed by a bark of laughter from Grimmjow as they headed over to the door shooting mocking waves over their shoulders at Matsumoto who couldn't bring herself to do more then let out a half chuckle and flip them off. Seriously, if they got along like that all the time she would have a problem. It would certainly be big enough to loose some sleep over anyway, she thought with a faint smile, turning back to the dirty glasses that needed her attention before she could get out of there for the night.

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Yeah, AU just as the summary stated. Its so much easier for some reason. The full list of pairings includes: GrimmUlqui, GinKira, AiUlqui, ToshiMatsu (oh em gee, het!) UraIchi and RenIchi. If a chapter is more pairing specific I'll put a note at the beginning so you can skip it if you _really_ can't stomach it, though all the chapters somehow play in to the plot. (Just like they should right... -sheepish grin-)

And a brief note about names. While this doesn't have a specific setting it is some place in the west, which means all the names will be in western order. Despite the fact it makes some of them sound weird...

There's also a possible doujin version from my hubby over on Deviantart if she feels its worth it.

There will be cake after pressing the 'submit' button if you leave a review. -blatant bribery-

And don't worry, it'll shortly be M for a reason.


	2. Uncommon Nonsense

This.... Should have taken no where as long as it did and for that I apologize. I've actually had this chapter written for quite some time and real life has prevented me from getting it up. That said its also not quite as good as it could be- I haven't had time to edit it really but I have no idea when I'll be able to get online next (summer school is a bitch) so I'd prefer to put something up rather than have nothing... I'll go through and edit when I have more time.

Thank you so much to the people who reviewed, you have my undying love and I'm sorry again that this took so freaking long.

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_charlatan, noun--a person falsely claiming to have a special knowledge or skill; a fraud._

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_"I had seven faces  
thought I knew which one to wear  
But I'm sick of spending these lonely nights  
training myself not to care  
the subway is a porno  
And the pavements they are a mess  
I know you've supported me for a long time  
somehow I'm not impressed" _

_-NYC, Interpol_

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Kira sighed faintly under his breath, shutting the manila folder before him in an air of relief as the second hand on the clock above his door finally hit four. At least he could give the small fry homicide team a full profile of the sort of person they were looking for in the morning. He almost felt sorry for the people that had to cover these cases in a more public manner- The press was absolutely brutal because it was the only sort of case they could get a large amount of access to.

"Hey Sunshine," he looked up as a female voice chirped the slightly joking greeting and then shook his head a notch as Momo Hinamori knocked on the door frame of his office as a delayed after thought. The blond man beckoned her in and she didn't hesitate to oblige, practically skipping over to the chair opposite him, before sitting down with a slight bounce. "What's got you so down? Its four, get to go home; watch the soaps or whatever it is you do on a Wednesday evening."

"Thank you," Kira retorted wryly, taking in the grin on her face and the fact that the loose, dark hair on either side of her face was slightly curled… Coupled with what looked like fresh lipstick… "I've always longed for my life to sound like that of a middle aged and single woman… I'm just a little tired of working all these minor cases. But what's all this for? Date or did Renji convince you to give your relationship another shot?"

"Ack- No!" Momo instantly defended, stifling a slight laugh and earning a chuckle from Kira as well. "I would never have agreed to go to dinner with him if I wasn't sick that week. I swear the cold medicine made me tipsy or something-" She shook her head, mildly embarrassed by the recollection. That night had quickly taught her why you don't date your friends, especially when they work in the same building as you. It just wasn't romantic. At all. And Momo was quick to admit she was a bit of a sap. She teased Kira about watching soap operas but more often than not she found herself flicking through the her DVR'd episodes while lounging on the couch after work. "It's a date though," she continued, the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks as she paused slightly.

"And a story," the blond picked up, he knew that little hesitation well. "Go on, I don't have any place to be."

"It was like one of those things out of a novel actually," Momo started up again, sounding faintly breathless at her apparent good luck. "I was almost late this morning, my alarm didn't go off so I missed the train I normally take in and got stuck on one ten minutes later…Anyway, I was feeling all rushed when I got up to the sidewalk again and someone bumped in to me and made me spill my stuff everywhere, it's the morning too so no one's got the time to watch where they're going-" She cut herself off abruptly, catching Kira's blue eyed gaze. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling. You probably just want to get home."

"Momo," her name escaped the blonde's lips in something that was halfway between a sigh and a groan. "I've known you since college. You're my friend, I care."

"Yeah," the dark haired woman agreed with a slight smile. "I know you do. Well, my papers were getting trampled by stilettos and shiny leather shoes and I was trying to pick them up before they were unreadable then out of nowhere there's this guy on his knees next to me helping. Izuru, I swear to god he's the sort of guy I could fall in love with within a week and marry within a month. Messy brown hair, glasses, and the _sweetest_ smile." She stopped to take a breath, letting it out slowly as she tried to avoid getting too giddy at the recollection. "When he passed me my bag back and asked if I had any plans tonight I just about fainted on the spot."

"What's his name?" Kira questioned a slight smile on his own lips at exactly how enthusiastic Momo was over her surprise rescuer. It wasn't for show either. The woman on the other side of his desk was earnest, hard working, cheerful, the sort of person who deserved a someone special in their life but didn't have one. If her mystery man from the morning was a possible candidate then so be it. She was capable of taking care of herself as well if things didn't go quite as planned.

"Sosuke," Momo stated with just the faintest edge of a sigh in her voice as the name fell from her lips. She glanced down briefly away from Kira to check the small silver watch on her wrist, not wanting to twist around in her seat to look at the one above the door. Four fifteen. "Aw crap, I'm gonna be late meeting him if I don't get going-"

"Then get going," the blond cut with a slight chuckle as he gestured to the door. The dark haired woman stood from her seat, giddy air hanging thickly around her as she made a quick turn on the spot with a short 'how do I look?' Kira shook his head again but obliged and inspected the skirt and plain white blouse she had on. "Professional and good."

"Wish me luck," she all but hummed, stepping over to the door but not quite stepping through yet as she recalled something the blond had said earlier. "If you're sick of small time things ask for a transfer on to a team. It's not like Urahara can deny you that- You're the best criminal profiler he's got. I bet he'd be thrilled to have you working on the serial killings."

"He already asked, I told him I would only work on that case the day I got personal connections to it. I want to be able to sleep at night… Plus, I'd worry more about yourself," Kira stated, waving away her concern with his tone. "Working in forensics with Toshiro and you're going to be late for your date." Momo laughed slightly, despite the fact that she still felt concerned, but complied, heading out of his office with a wave and a grin.

The blond man sighed faintly as she departed down the hall. Cracking open one of the drawers on his desk he dropped in the manila folder from earlier with a faint note of relief. Didn't have to worry about that until tomorrow… Maybe Momo was right and it really was time to file a request to join a team, to work on a larger project, he mused, rising from his seat to grab his coat off the back of his door which he didn't hesitate to shut behind him. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy his job; it was both challenging and rewarding and also sort of therapeutic. His life may be lacking any sort of relationship beyond friends but profiling criminals made you realize how normal you were. But even so, now that it seemed like half the crime scenes he visited, half the folders that hit his desk, were accidents or small isolated cases that were wrapped up within a week… It had been fine at first but now, even though he was a pretty patient person, it was getting tedious. At least he got to work alongside decent people and there was no danger of losing touch with your friends when they worked in the same building as you- albeit in different departments. There were still lunch breaks after all…

Gin side stepped a commuter as he shot a brief glance at his wristwatch. A little past four. That would explain the sudden flood of people in slacks and business jackets that he now, what with standing on the sidewalk, blended in to perfectly. He had indeed made an executive decision to lay low after Matsumoto's little bit of news last night but that didn't mean bringing his activities to a complete halt. When a person made it a goal to avoid honest work their entire life they tended to have plenty of free time left to them. If only the poor fools milling past him realized that, but they were just a little bit too hung up on their schedules for their own good. He took a step forward in to the slip stream of bodies, eyes instantly focused at pocket level as he tried to decide on a target. Right now, laying low demanded no con but that was pretty much it. Unless his gut instinct told him otherwise the petty theft- read pick pocketing- would continue as normal.

The grin on his lips inched up further as he brushed shoulders with a bearded business man and stepped away from his encounter with the familiar shape of a wallet in his long fingered hand. Driver's license, no- Pictures of family, no- Cash, yes. He plucked the money from the bill fold deftly; slipping it in to his pocket as he snapped the wallet shut and let it drop to the concrete beneath his feet. That was all he ever took, the actual cold hard cash. Credit cards and debt it cards left a trail that was all too easy for cops to follow home with today's technology. Dropping the wallet as quickly as you got it was another safety net, no evidence. And who knows, maybe somebody would pick it up and return it to the guy…

His gaze forward again, a grey coat about five paces ahead catching his eye this time. With his spare seconds he shot a brief look up at the owner's face that was half hidden by a fringe of blond hair. The man's lips were set in a flat line and his brow was faintly knit as though he were mulling over a gloomy topic. Perhaps a bad day at the office and a wife that's cheating on him for the electrician. Ah well, everyone has bad days. The world wouldn't stop just because a gloomy looking blond lost a bit of cash in addition to his possible wife's possible infidelity. With a smoothness that betrayed his expertise Gin stepped to the left a notch, bumped his shoulder against the blonde's and dipped his fingers in to his pocket to grab a hold of the wallet there. One more step from both of them in their current direction would tug it out of the pocket and in to the silver haired man's possession.

It never came. Gin came to a dead stop at the feeling of a hand around his wrist in a hold that wasn't punishing but certainly firm. Oblivious to the people on all sides of them he turned to take in the younger looking man, trying to conceal the taken aback and slightly annoyed look that crossed his features despite his still upturned lips.

"That's my wrist y'know," he drawled with a faintly condescending edge as he attempted to smooth over the fact that he'd just been caught for the first time in at least two years.

"It's my wallet," Kira responded easily, doing a good job of coming across as un-phased as he made no move to let go of the bone thin wrist in his hand. Much as his assailant had a few seconds ago he inspected the other man, taking in the smiling but thin lips with a controlled gaze. He skipped ahead to the silver hair that matched pale un-tanned skin (but then where were people supposed to get a tan in a city that spent at least three quarters of its time under a cloud covered sky?) before actually pausing at the thin, half lidded eyes where he could just sort of see pale blue through the other's lashes.

"Don' know what yer talkin' about." Gin dropped the finger hold on the leather rectangle he had maintained inside the grey coat's pocket. At this point he just wanted out. Fine, Mr. Gloomy was clever. Well if he knew what was good for him then he wouldn't report this to the police and would go home to his gloomy little life. The police had yet to catch up with him enough to have his face on file. He'd like to keep it that way. The blond sighed faintly but dropped the taller man's wrist, visible eye still resting on the other's own blue orbs.

"Better luck next time," he stated turning away. There wasn't any point in messing around with the silver haired man. He'd tried to pick pocket him. Pick pockets weren't really criminals in his book. Bored people maybe but not criminals when compared to some of the cases they saw. "I deal with people like you all day long." That caught Gin's attention despite the fact instinct had been screaming 'get out' a second ago. People like him, huh? Blondie was _in_ the police, fancy that. Instantly he was elevated from yet another clinically depressed suit to a possible treasure trove of information. Maybe he could milk a bit more out of his would be victim over a beer or two- Matsumoto wasn't the only one who could coax information out of others. He just didn't have as good a success rate as her, and he was blaming that one on a lack of prominent cleavage to display to people. With a quick turn he started back after the blond man who'd already managed to put about six people between them. Unfortunately for blondie six people wasn't nearly enough. He'd mastered the art of navigating crowds when he was ten.

"Hey-!" Kira stopped at the call, jumping slightly when a hand descended down on to his shoulder a second later. He'd never done well with surprises like that. "Ye wanna get a drink?" He blinked at his assailant-for-the-second-time as though he'd gone crazy. But maybe he was. He was pretty sure _sane_ people didn't make a habit of trying to steal your wallet and then asked you out for a drink after.

"What-? I- I don't-" He started, the collected air from before all but gone in the face of such an unexpected twist. Honestly, what was he supposed to say to that without coming across as rude? The man, who's hand was currently still resting on his shoulder much to his faint discomfort, had _tried_ to nick his wallet but not succeeded. So no harm done there… for the most part. Though that fixed smile was starting to become unsettling. "I don't drink-" It probably sounded feeble, he thought, but it was the truth at least. The last time he'd downed alcohol was at Renji's birthday party and the only things he could recall clearly from that was, after having had about two beers, laughing a lot and having a hard time saying 'no' to pretty much anything. It was not an ordeal he wanted to repeat. Gin scoffed faintly and held on to the grey fabric beneath his fingers a little tighter to prevent his captive from brushing him off, which he looked like he was about ready to do.

"Allergic or somethin'?" he questioned wryly, grinning at a passerby who gave them a faintly curious look. He sort of wanted to know what they thought was going on- Just for the kicks. "C'mon, it'll take the edge of the fact yer wife's cheatin' on ya." The taken aback look he was getting twisted in to one that made it even more clear the other man was starting to wonder about his mental stability.

"I'm not married," Kira replied, an edge of caution in his voice. Where had that come from, he wondered. Did he really look that troubled, that random passersby assumed he was in the midst of a divorce or the like? Maybe Renji and Momo were right and he did in fact need to work on smiling more… His thoughts had swallowed him up just enough to let the other man tug him a couple steps back in the direction he'd been coming from before he realized it and made to plant his feet once more.

"Girlfriend then," Gin picked up smoothly, halting as well as the blond stopped complying with his subtle tugs. "Pretty lil' bird ya met at the party yer acquaintance from work threw last month but now she's gone an' decided yer best friend's a better catch an' they've been foolin' around behind yer back ever since they met two weeks ago when ye all went out t' see a movie." He arched a thin eyebrow at Kira, giving his coat another small yank. He'd gotten him to take a few steps without really trying so it wasn't a bad job yet.

"I'm not dating either," the blond stated, letting out a noise that got caught halfway between a sigh and a disbelieving laugh. "Did you seriously just come up with all of that just to try and convince me to get a drink with you?" Profiling forced him to partially immerse himself in to some of the weirdest (and most twisted) thought patterns a human mind could follow but even that was… odd to him.

"I'm a novelist. An' if ya aren't datin' then yer starved for company. Yer career in the police has lead you t' think the worst a' people and ye've lost yer faith in humanity. Yer afraid that friendships an' relationships will only lead t' disappointment." That one was actually sort of close, he thought, resisting a sigh. Except he had friends and it wasn't a lack of faith but a lack of time. Gin noticed the faint waver in his resolve and gave himself a hypothetical pat on the back for hitting on an actual point with his loose guesses. "See, we're gettin' to know each other a'ready. Let's go." Kira shook his head, finally brushing off the hand on his shoulder but instead of retreating like he'd been about to a minute ago he made a move to follow the older man. Maybe an evening off from his routine of reading, mulling over work and trying to find some decent music to listen to alone wouldn't be such a bad idea. Plus the longer they stood in the middle of the sidewalk the longer they attracted looks from homebound commuters; he'd always hated being the center of attention. And it wasn't like he had to order alcohol; the places around here weren't below serving water and the like.

"Do you talk to everyone like that?" he asked as they dodged a member of the last wave of commuters, starting back up the sidewalk. He spent his entire work day analyzing, second guessing, thinking. But spitting out those (slightly cliché) bits of story for the hell of it…

"Depends." And it did depend. On whom he was talking to. The silver haired man knew that if he tried to use that sort of thing to convince Grimmjow in to stunts he'd get a slightly confused look and a question of 'what the hell did you smoke?' Matsumoto would smile for a few seconds of it and then tell him to cut the crap- that she didn't need to be talked in circles to agree to help or whatever.

They lapsed in to silence as they hurried across a cross walk, Gin leading the way and Kira a pace or so behind. The blond was in the police force so he figured dragging him to the bar where Matsumoto worked probably wouldn't be such a brilliant idea. That, and he'd gotten all dressed up- enough to look presentable in the business district, slacks, collared shirt, tie (though it wasn't tight around his neck), jacket. Why waste it? There were a few nice places around here that he'd popped in to once or twice, it wouldn't be that hard to find them again. "Gin Ichimaru," the two words broke the quiet as he paused to double check a street sign.

"What?" Kira blinked slightly, brow knit as the other's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. What the hell was he doing, following an utter stranger to god knows where? The only thing that it definitely was was spontaneous and he wasn't well known for his spontaneous urges. Schedules and pre planning were the safety nets that for all intent and purpose guided his life. He relied on their dependability and stability to counteract the confusing mess work could be sometimes.

"My name," Gin drawled, and his tone suggested that if the face he showed the world were a little more gruff there would have been a chiding 'idiot' tacked on to the end. But it wasn't like blondie was going to know that. "Yours?"

"Izuru Kira," he all but muttered. At least now he had a name to tack on to the smile that hadn't budged since he'd grabbed the older male's wrist. It somehow made the expression a little bit less unnerving, humanized him a notch maybe. Because even though he'd silently given his consent by following him there was something decidedly off about the man, something he couldn't quite put a finger on. Like he wasn't all there. "Gin, that's an …odd name."

"They all say that," the silver haired man chuckled as he came to a halt before a mahogany colored door, pushing it open to reveal the dimly lit and sort of darkly decorated interior of the restaurant bar hybrid he'd selected about half way through the walk. A few of the round tables had people seated at them and even fewer stools at the bar had patrons. Slow night, quick service- there was your silver lining if you were the sort of person that always needed to find one. He couldn't say he was but sometimes his subconscious found amusement in finding them. You knew you were in a higher class place anyway, when there wasn't any TV screens broadcasting tonight's game and there was light, almost jazz like music playing in the background over the muted conversations everyone was engaged in.

Kira pursed his lips slightly as they started over to the opposite end of the bar away from the rest of the customers. He opened his mouth a notch, half of him tempted to protest and the other half berating him for worrying so much. Who did he think he'd stumbled across; the serial killer the team he'd passed up being a part of was trying to catch? One unvoiced statement later he was seated on a black leather and silver metal stool to Gin's left.

"Two beers," the older man requested of the bar tender, having a brief round of déjà vu as he pulled out one of the twenties he had managed to nick earlier. What would that bearded business man say if he knew he was funding tonight's activities, he mused with a near silent chuckle.

"I don't-"

"A beer won't kill ya," he cut in across the blonde's protest. Honestly, it wasn't as though it was vodka or the like.

"It could," Kira muttered, eyeing the bill Gin passed to the man on the other side of the counter in exchange for their drinks. "Is that from the pocket of a person who wasn't quite quick enough to catch you?" he questioned dryly with no hint of amusement hidden anywhere in his voice. The sight of money had quickly brought him back to how he'd ended up here in the first place.

"Dunno," Gin stated and unlike the blond beside him, didn't hesitate to take a swallow of his drink. "If I say yes will ya arrest me?" He snuck a sideways glance at the other, grinning around the rim of his glass as Kira gave him a sort of flat look. The younger man was clearly making an attempt to figure out what sort of person he'd gotten stuck conversing with. This was fun already.

"I'd have done that back on the sidewalk and skipped this entirely if that's what I was aiming for," Kira sighed, running a hand in to his hair slightly. "I don't do much arresting anyway; I'm a criminal profiler not a detective." He paused; lips twisted down in a slight frown as he caved in to the sight of the drink in front of him and finally took a swallow, grimacing faintly at the taste. Along with not being able to hold his liquor well he didn't care much for the taste of any of what seemed to be standard drinks for those over twenty-one. "What sort of writing do you do?" It was an abrupt and obvious way to get the conversation started on a track that didn't lead to him divulging more information about himself but he didn't feel like being subtle, not in a situation this absurd.

Gin paused slightly, giving the inside of his glass a sort of puzzled look as he raised it to his lips once more. Oh, that's right. He'd told blondie he was a novelist back out on the sidewalk. Well, it was more interesting than the personas he normally took on for con jobs. Insurance men and investors were some of the most mind numbingly dull people on the planet to pretend to be. Plus they had no creativity when it came to how they presented themselves; he almost always had to douse his hair in some shade of semi-permanent brown hair dye and went through god knows how many bottles of shampoo getting it back out again. Garnier should be sending him thank you cards for all the money he spent on their products.

"Crime stories." Why not go with a field he had some expertise in? He could back it up with facts at the least. "Some con, some murder, that sorta stuff."

"And yet you pick pocket people?"

"Everyone needs a hobby 'Zuru. Ones on the opposite side a' the law tend t' be more challengin'. Plus studies show it's a sure fire way t' meet people," he chuckled slightly; watching as Kira took another swallow of the amber drink before him and gave him another look that could have been taken as mildly aghast. "So, if all that's' true what woul' my profile look like?"

"Depends on what you're lying about," the blond countered but raised his glass back up to his mouth to give himself enough time to actually mull over the question. He couldn't say he was sure at this point. The man beside him was certainly eccentric (which was a nice way of saying he probably had some sort of personality disorder) but beyond that his statements were too loose, too patchy, to get much more than that out of them. If he really was a novelist that would suggest he had a stable life and a relatively stable mentality but the pick pocketing contradicted that. So if he was lying about the writing career he could easily be a full blown criminal. But maybe the money in his pocket was actually from honest means and earlier had been a onetime sort of thing or an excuse to talk and he was just keeping up the petty crime front for the laughs… And all of that aside he was clearly good at holding a conversation without letting on about himself. Kira resisted the urge to groan under his breath and gulped down another mouthful of his drink to try and rid himself of the buzzing thoughts. He just wasn't able to get a break, even out of the office.

"I never said I _was_ lyin', jus' what it would mean if it was all the truth."

"That would imply you're lying," came his quick reply, though it was muttered and a little bit muted as he didn't hesitate to drain the last of the beer from his glass. "You don't have any problem with this do you? It isn't awkward or uncomfortable at all is it?"

"What isn'?" Gin asked, sounding vaguely curious as he gave the other's empty glass a slight raised eyebrow. For a man who said he didn't drink it sure looked like he could put it away. Though maybe that was because of him. He smirked faintly at the thought; he'd never driven anyone to alcoholism before. That he knew of.

"This- Dragging some random stranger you have no connection to out for a drink and then just sitting there, talking and asking questions like you're old college friends or something-" Though he knew he wouldn't be doing this kind of thing, Kira sort of wished he could be even remotely that uninhibited.

"Nope, can't say I've got a problem with it." The silver haired man slid his half finished beer over in front of the Kira, leaning in to him slightly to do so. "'Ere, think ya need that more than I do." He sat back up and instantly felt the smile on his lips stretch up in to a just faintly malicious grin as he took in the hint of a flush on the blonde's features from their proximity a second ago. So blondie leaned that way. He should have guessed. It was a night late but maybe there was still a shot at getting laid in honor of the latest job.

"Thanks," came the mumble form the other. Normally he would have instantly refused taking in further alcohol of any sort but the first beer had already fuzzed over that little bit of logic and it was helping him feel a bit more at ease if nothing else. Oblivious to the inspection Gin was giving him, he made short work of the remaining liquid before him, twisting slightly on his stool to better address the man seated beside him. "So why did you ask me out for a drink anyway?"

"Dunno," Gin started cryptically, leaning in a notch again. "Research for my next story, thought ye were cute, what makes ya feel special?" Despite the fact that it looked like he wasn't going to get anything out of his companion about what the police knew about anything he couldn't bring himself to call it a waste of time. Certainly not now when he had Kira glancing away from him and looking vaguely flustered.

"The truths always nice," the blond muttered lips sort of pursed.

"Ah, that's hard," he sighed, propping his chin up in his palm much like he had done last night at the bar with Matsumoto and Grimmjow. "We fiction writers seem not t' do to well with the truth." If he was going to play the role of crime novelist then he was going to do it thoroughly and use it to his advantage. "But I had t' try I'd say it's 'cause it's been an awful long time since anyone caught me at my hobby an' even then it's never been a cute an' apparently single blond. Then again that's runnin' on the assumption that not datin' and not bein' married means free."

"Yeah, that's what it means." Kira shook his head slightly, closing his eyes as he tried to collect his thoughts. Momo might have had an odd morning but he was sure as hell getting his due of… random incidents now. She got a surprise date, he got an attempted pick pocket, an offer for a drink and now not quite subtle flirtations from a man who could be a writer but could also be a criminal. And the beer and a half he'd downed to ease his spinning thoughts also prevented him from spurning Gin's advancements right off the bat- even though that probably would be the smartest thing to do.

"Good, then this ain't gonna try any loyalties," Gin stated with a sort of hum like undertone to his voice as he leaned forward to press his still up turned lips over Kira's own. Even if he had been a more reserved person the place could barely still be called public with one or two other patrons who were all engaged in their own business and a bar tender who was facing away from them. The mouth beneath his remained sort of stiff as the younger man half blinked at him in apparent surprise, though as to how anyone could not have seen that coming was beyond him, before relaxing a notch and returning the pressure in a sort of hesitant way that made it obvious the blond still wasn't sure if he wanted to do this. He knew the deal was sealed though when he persisted a few seconds more and Kira closed his eyes, reopening them just as quickly when Gin pulled back.

"I don' live anywhere remotely close t' here," the silver haired man breathed, and that much at least was the truth. They were both adults, they didn't need someone to spell out where things were going to go from here.

"A couple blocks," Kira mumbled, looking just faintly embarrassed with the directness of the conversation.

"Yer place then."

Somewhere between walking that couple blocks and exchanging quick kisses that steadily became less organized and needier Kira found himself fumbling to get his key out of his pocket, one of Gin's hands on his hip and his breathing in his ear. He turned the key in the lock, pausing and closing his eyes briefly at the sensation of the other nibbling at his earlobe which was only heightened by light haze of alcohol that had settled firmly over his brain and the fact that it had been longer then he'd care to admit since his last… fling.

Gin didn't remove his grip on the blond as they stepped in to his flat, draping his arm more firmly around his waist instead to silently inform him that he wasn't about to let go any time soon. With a quick, practiced gaze he inspected Kira's rather sparsely decorated but still home like flat, taking it all in, the couch, kitchenette, adjacent bedroom, within a few seconds. Content with the layout of his new surroundings he refocused his attention on the younger man in his arms, nipping firmly at his earlobe once more before shifting his mouth to the curve of his neck, tongue flicking out lightly though the open mouthed kiss as his breath drifted across the blonde's somewhat pale skin.

--

The silver haired man shifted slightly to raise his head and look over his younger companions shoulder. The glowing red face of the digital clock read 10:36. Time to go. He'd been biding his time for about an hour until Kira's breaths evened out to the pace that normally indicated deep sleep. He could have left right off the bat, he supposed, he wasn't the one who was drunk. But sometimes it was fun to mix things up and let the night's partner fall asleep feeling, at least somewhere in the back of their mind, that this could have been a more than a one night stand. With the same deftness that he used when nicking people's wallets he withdrew his arm from the slumbering blonde's waist, sliding off the bed soundlessly.

A quick search around the room revealed that by some happy twist of fate all of his clothes had ended up in roughly the same spot. That certainly couldn't be said for most of the times he went through this procedure, he mused, slipping on his boxers and slacks before fumbling slightly with the buttons on the white, collared shirt- There wasn't exactly so much light in the room that the action was easy. Evidently the window to the left of the bed did not look out on a street.

"Bye bye, 'Zuru," standing in the doorway of the bedroom he spared Kira one more look, a sort of half muted laugh escaping him at the fact that, even in sleep, the profiler's brow appeared sort of knit, complementing the faint trace of a left over frown on his lips. Was honest work really so trying? Gin ran a long fingered hand through his hair, attempting to bring some order to the strands as he approached the front door he'd entered through only a few hours ago. Hand on the doorknob he paused at the sight of a series of hooks that apparently held Kira's spare keys.

"Aw, now that's jus' too temptin'," he muttered, eyeing the pieces of metal. A few of them were too small to go to any sort of door and must have been for something at work. It was the first one he snagged though, the one that looked like the standard sort of copy for house locks that you could get made at hardware stores. Slipping in to his pocket before closing the door behind himself, the distinct click of a lock that would no longer stop him echoing in the hall, Gin grinned. He was lying low after all. He could afford to mess with blondie for a little bit longer than a night.

* * *

Reviewing despite the blatant shit that is this chapter gets you double the helping of undying love.

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	3. To Your Husband, You're Dead

Chapter three, now with ten percent more Ulquiorra. And fifty percent more Renji. And a much shorter author's note.

Many thanks to Vicious-Loner for the good, solid, valuable critique that every writer likes to get.

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catharsis |kəˈθärsis| noun;

1 the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

2 _rare_ Medicine purgation.

* * *

Inside my head hell screams it must be time  
This weather can't be right  
We rode our horses to the outer edge  
The crusty dry devide

And we became the people  
we had never meant to be  
Those dying flames  
The pieces we did not want to receive

-1916, Cake Bake Betty

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Kira reached out blindly as the loud but simple ring tone of his cell phone went off, throwing him out of his stupor of sleep. For a few seconds he groped around the small bed side table, where, on any other morning, his phone would have rested. Instead he bumped the clock a few times; brushed against the book he was about half way through but ultimately came up empty handed.

"Damnit," the mild oath came out as a mutter as he sat up reluctantly, rubbing at his blue eyes briefly before stopping dead at the sight of his pants on the floor from which the phone was still going off. The sight of the garment and the ever so slight headache situated in the center of his forehead was enough to bring last night's events back to him in a rush- The attempted pick pocketing, the drink invite, the talking, the sex… With a low groan that sounded suspiciously like 'oh god' he bent over, wrestling the slim grey phone from the front pocket before finally flipping it open- ring tone getting cut off abruptly.

"Hello?" Checking the caller ID was the least of his priorities right now.

"You know- When I blow off the plans that you and Momo make its perfectly reasonable. Because I _know_ the other one will still turn up. But _both_ of you blowing off _my _breakfast plans- C'mon. That better have been one hell of a party." The blond let out a slight sigh at the distinct voice of Renji Abarai on the other end of the line. For a few seconds he didn't respond until a short 'hello?' made it impossible for him to suspend talking.

"Not a party exactly…" he stated, eyeing the slightly screwed up sheets to his left where Gin had been last night to the best of his recollection.

"Oh boy- He's not instantly on the defensive. Better go through what happened word by word."

"Do I have to…?" Kira questioned, sliding out from under the sheets and dangling his legs over the edge to the bed. He still felt a little bit uncoordinated but figured it would pass as soon as he was actually moving. Holding the phone to his ear via his shoulder he doubled over to collect his boxers and tug them on up over his ankles. "I… met someone okay?" He closed his eyes briefly, holding back another sigh as the red head let out a whoop of laughter through the connection.

"_You_ met someone? Are they there? Can I talk to them-?"

"No, they are not here and even if they were I wouldn't let you," the blond retorted, crossing over to his dresser to pull out a pair of grey slacks, trying to decide if pulling them on right away was worth it when he was keeping a phone pressed to her ear. Not that he really needed to. Renji's voice was raised enough that he probably could have heard it from the kitchenette, and the grin that he knew was on his college friend's face was evident in his tone.

"A one night stand…?" The statement was followed up by a low and impressed whistle.

"Please don't sound so shocked," Kira sighed, selecting a shirt. That was exactly the sort of reaction he'd counted on getting though. His inability to find time for relationships amongst all his work had been a long running joke amongst his friends that was now unfortunately, spreading to his coworkers as well.

"Chick or a dude?"

"A man if you must know," he rolled his eyes slightly. Renji made it a point to not care about who he slept with and seemed to forget on a regular basis that most other people _did_ have a preference. Whether that be their own gender or the opposite. He slid his shirt on to his shoulders but left it unbuttoned as he came to a stop before his mirror at the sight of a bright violet blemish situated well above his neck line. He remembered a bite to the tongue but nothing to the neck. Steeling himself for the fit of laugher he knew would be echoing in his ear, he ran the thumb of his free hand over the mark. "Renji… what would you do about a visible hickey?" Sure enough, he was rewarded with a loud bark of laughter.

"They left visible ones-? Gutsy. I dunno… put a band aid on it or something, it's gonna be pretty damn obvious what it is either way. I'd say call Momo and ask her to bring in her concealer but I tried calling her before you and her phone was off."

"Perhaps her date with her knight in shining armor went better than expected," the blonde profiler stated dryly, now rooting around in his bathroom for the box of band aids he knew was in there somewhere. Renji thought leaving a visible hickey was 'gutsy'; he didn't know the half of it… "Look, it's a little bit too late to get breakfast now right?" An agreeing grunt. "I'll see you at work then, alright?"

"Yeah fine- Just don't ditch work as well cause lover boy's actually waiting outside your door to pounce and molest your ass."

"Ha ha, very funny," with that he snapped his phone shut, placing the band aid over the bruise on his neck and tried to block out the mental image of Gin's smiling face. It was a poor choice and there was no point in dwelling on it. He wouldn't see the other man again and even if he could he wasn't sure he would take the opportunity. As muddled as his recollections were there was something unsettling about those blue eyes and that grin. Another low groan escaped the blonde's lips as he glanced down- Renji would have to wait a little longer. He needed a shower.

--

It took Renji roughly twelve seconds, starting after Kira walked in to the front lobby to give the shorter man a congratulatory thump on the back. He'd have done it sooner but he had to cross over from the front desk where he was talking with the receptionist and meet the blond about half way from the sliding glass doors.

"No, I don't know what I was thinking," the criminal profiler started without hesitation, knowing that his brief run in with interrogation on the phone was just the tip of the iceberg. "Yes, I was a little drunk…" that part of the statement came out with a sigh. "And yes, he was fairly decent looking."

"Good man,' the red head stated with a short laugh, raising a hand in a sort of half formed farewell wave to the receptionist as they started in to the actual building. "Now, was this drunk for you or drunk for a standard person because seriously- You were giddy off that wine cooler when we all went out to eat that one time. And I'm sorry but that's _sad_." Kira gave him a dry look that suggested he wasn't amused by the other bringing up the fact he couldn't hold liquor in any form.

"It was a beer and half, so drunk for me I guess-" Renji shook his head slightly, clasping the blonde's shoulder in a jokingly consoling manner as they passed through the first block of offices and rooms that were pretty much reserved for briefings and spaces for people who were fresh from the academy and need some place to work before they got formally settled.

"So'd you get his name, or I dunno… What he does? Or was it drink and fuck?"

"Renji, some people have standards. I know you're not lined up with the normal human mentality but at least try and keep it in mind. His name was Gin and… he said he was a novelist." Bringing up the fact that he could easily have been lying about that and that they'd met when the older man had tried to pick pocket him would probably only cause problems… What the red head didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He let out a faint sigh, lips pursed as they walked by Momo's office. The door was still shut and the lights were off making it obvious that she had yet to come in. Kira had been sort of half hoping that she would have arrived and Renji would have someone else to bother about their intimate conquests. It could hardly be called his topic- In fact he sort of shied away from discussing most private things.

"Weird name, but I guess you gotta have one if you're one of those creative writer types," the blonde's somewhat odd way of phrasing the statement ('_said_ he was a novelist') went right over his head. "I wanna go say good morning to Rookie before I hole up in my office waiting for something exciting to happen that I can actually get involved with- Urahara hasn't let me anywhere near the scenes of one of the serial killings and its driving me crazy-" he cut himself off with a sort of huffish sigh, as though he too personal offence in the fact. "Anyway, you wanna come with?"

"You know," Kira noted, with a faint nod. "You might have more luck talking to him with you called him by his name instead of 'rookie'"

"Aw, don't be a spoil sport. He's only been here half a month or so- Soon I won't be able to call him rookie. He should be thanking me in any case, that sounds way manlier than _Ichigo._ What the hell were his-"

"Abarai, Kira-" The red head's comment was cut off by the cool, business like voice of Byakuya Kuchiki as he approached from behind them, lips in a flat line.

"Sir?" the blond questioned, trying to cover up, or at least make up for, the fact that Renji's only form of acknowledgement was to make a slight face. He and their black haired superior hadn't gotten off to a brilliant start back when Renji had first joined the force. As far as Kira could recall it was something to do with his tattoos- Byakuya had fought valiantly to force him to get them removed until Urahara had told him it didn't really matter and that nobody but stiffs paid attention to policies like that. And while Urahara sometimes took things way too lightly he was the director and his word was essentially law.

"Something's happened. Urahara would like to talk to you in his office. Now." The two younger men exchanged a glance but followed without question, heading back up the way they had come. A call to the director's office meant the topic was grave enough for the blond man to neglect his normally loose attitude- Standard messages from him were delivered in person and with no fan fare, just a quick duck in to your office.

"What-"

"I think he would prefer to tell you," Byakuya stated, cutting Renji off for a second time, gesturing them forward through the door and locking it smoothly to prevent interruption as they all crowded in. Renji frowned slightly as they took a seat across from the older man in response to a sort of half hearted hand gesture- Kira grimacing ever so faintly despite the fact the chair was padded.

"What's this about-?" The tattooed man beside him questioned sort of callously, unnerved by the somber atmosphere the small room seemed to hold. "We just got in-"

"We've had another killing," Urahara stated, tone almost flat and with no trace of his normal half there grin that always seemed to be lurking around the corners of his mouth. He didn't need to elaborate on what sort of killing as the two men before him paused, expressions holding varying degrees of confusion.

"I've already told you," Kira started, making half a move to stand up. He didn't want to get involved with this case on any level. Not out of heartlessness- he felt nothing but sympathy and sadness for the friends and families of the victims, even more so because they were making no head way with it. He knew that the people who were personally acquainted with all the women must be losing all faith in law enforcement. No, he didn't want to get wrapped up in it because he didn't want to have to sit there and _rationalize_ what sort of person could have committed these murders or _why_ they did it. So, as selfish as it was, he planned on continuing to turn down requests to join the team until something happened to make him want to personally put the perpetrator behind bars. "I'm not working the case, not until-"

"That's exactly why I called you in," the older man stated, causing the profiler to stop dead in the middle of his sentence, still hovering about an inch above his chair. "Momo's dead." He was greeted with the dead silence that accompanies taken aback shook as Renji twisted sharply in his seat to look at the black haired man still standing by the door in a sort of desperate manner as though silently pleading with him to say 'just kidding'. Because those reassuring words sure as hell weren't coming from the flat line of Urahara's lips, and there was no joking sparkle in his somber eyes.

"What-?" the word came Kira in a sort of strangled whisper, his blue eyes still locked on the man in front of him as he sat back down with a shallow 'thump'. Urahara nodded slightly, the movement dragged the red head's pained gaze back to him as well.

"The call came in about ten minutes ago," the ash blond man continued, voice heavy. "She was found a couple of blocks from here… Kira," the name escaped him in a sort of regretful manner as though he knew it was wrong to be forcing this sort of thing in on the younger man. "Does this constitute a personal reason for you to get involved…?" The criminal profiler stared at him for a few more seconds as though praying, just like Renji, for someone to declare it was a joke, a sick one, but just a joke.

"Yes-" he still sounded choked as he nodded, finally looking away to close his eyes, biting his lip in a pained manner.

"Byakuya will take you then-" Urahara started, tone laced with sympathy but he never got to finish as Renji stood sharply, stepping up to his desk.

"Wait just a fucking second!" he snapped, palms pressed to the deep brown wood of the surface before him as he leaned in to the other man. "What about me?! You haven't let me anywhere near the case even though I've been trying since day one to get on the team! And now-! One of my best friends is killed and you expect me to take that news back to my office and do nothing to try and catch her killer?!"

"Renji, I just don't think, with your temperament-" the police director tried in apology, raising one of his hands slightly as though to ward off the punch that looked like it might be coming his way.

"I'm one of the best people you've got you god damn sleazebag and you know it-! Put me on the fucking team-!!" the red head all but shouted, twisting sharply as Byakuya stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder to try and pull him back a notch. There was no way, there was just no fucking way he was going to still be denied a shot at catching this guy- Not now- Not with Momo dead-

"If you want me you'll put him on the team," Kira cut in, voice soft in comparison to Renji's though his eyes were open again and he was back to looking Urahara despite the pained air around him. "The three of us have been teaming up on things since before we got here. That doesn't change- Especially not now." The older man pursed his lips slightly, a barely audible sigh escaping him as he glanced at the red head who was glaring at Byakuya and shoving his hand off roughly.

"Fine…" he stated slowly, recalling exactly how many times the two men and Momo had swapped notes and helped each other with the cases they were handed. "All three of you will go then. Ichigo left with a few of the cadets when the call came in to tape off the area and start with the basics-" His explanation was rendered useless as Kira stood with a faint look that could have been of thanks and followed Byakuya out the door Renji had violently unlocked and opened as soon as the word fine had passed the ash blond man's lips.

The drive over was all but silent. Byakuya didn't question the other two as they took seats in the back of the sleek unmarked car. On occasion he would shoot a glance at the rearview mirror but neither Renji nor Kira budged during the entire- albeit relatively quick- drive. The red headed crime scene investigator hadn't bothered with the seatbelt by his shoulder and had his head tilted back over the back of the seat, eyes closed and brow half knit. Kira was doubled over staring blankly at his knees with his hands run half way in to his hair and tangled there. The jolt of the car braking and being put in to park snapped them both out of it however.

"We have a job to do," the black haired man in the driver's seat stated evenly, opening his door. "Don't let the fact that you know the victim alter any of your decisions." Renji glared at his back slightly as they approached the taped off area, the angered expression fading as he took in the sight of Momo's body situated in a seated position, one leg crossed over the other in a manner standard of women wearing skirts. Her hands were folded on her knees and there was the white rectangle of an index card situated right where it was supposed to be.

"Jesus Christ…" Kira breathed from Renji's right, looking faintly sick as he raised a hand to his mouth. Unlike the red head, his gaze had immediately shot to the gash that crossed her throat in a precise manner and was deep enough to cause her head to tilt back on her shoulders, stretching the skin to reveal some of the inner workings of her airway that were coated in dried blood.

"Renji-"all three of them turned as Ichigo's voice sounded from behind them where he was walking back from the open trunk of the car he had evidently arrived in. The young ginger was clutching several pairs of gloves in his hand as he dodged one of the cadets milling around the taped off area. "Sorry, I was telling one of the cadets to keep the press-"He might have only joined the force a couple weeks ago but his high scores on tests and exercises had placed him in a position above all the other newcomers for the year. He stopped himself as he took in the expressions in place on their faces, brow knitting upwards a notch. "I'm-"

"Let's just get to work-" Renji stated shortly, not letting the sympathetic apology form fully. If he kept busy, he thought, the situation wouldn't sink in all the way. And he couldn't afford to let it. Because as soon as the reality of this hit home- as soon as his brain stopped refusing to put Momo's name with the face of the women before them- he knew he would break down and then he wouldn't be any use here.

Kira shot him a brief look, wishing he was able to disassociate himself as well at the moment. It was because he wasn't used to this, he thought as he ducked under the band of tape before them, eyes closing for a few seconds despite his attempt to remain focused on the tasks ahead of them. He couldn't objectify like Renji and try as he might he couldn't rid himself of the clip of mental film that kept replaying in his mind's eye- Momo turning in a small circle in front of his desk, skirt spinning out slightly as she asked how she looked, smiling…

"Kira," Byakuya's voice snapped him to, and he couldn't be sure but it sounded just slightly less cold than it had back at the car. "This is a small crime scene, the less people the better. And because this isn't your normal area of … expertise I'm going to have to ask you to tell one of the cadets what you need and then step back." Renji turned at his words as his friend nodded sort of hesitantly and quickly requested to see the index card as soon as he could. There was no point in reminding them to photograph her position six ways to Sunday.

"We're only checking this area-?" the red head questioned, sounding sharp again as he carefully avoided looking at Momo's face where her glassy eyes stared up at the cloud covered sky- amongst all the other things he'd done the killer hadn't bother to push her eyelids down.

"Abarai, this is a public area. And if you were keeping your emotions out of this like I asked you to you would realize right off the bat that inspecting any more than this segment of sidewalk would be counterproductive. Odds are there would be nothing of use and it would give the public and press more time to stick their nose in to this," he glanced briefly at some of the newcomers who'd come with Ichigo and were already busy shooing passersby along, it was only a matter of time before they turned in to reporters flashing their press badges and demanding to be let by. When that happened he wanted to be almost done if not long gone. He despised that humanity felt the need to stick their noses in to everything; the death of someone should be an event that people respected, not broadcast to all the TV sets in the city so as to entice more morbidly curious viewers to flick to their channel. "Do your job, Abarai and grieve for her once we're all done here," he broke off with a faint sigh as Renji gave him an angry scowl but turned back anyway. If the younger man wanted to channel his anger towards the man heading what was now his team, fine. He didn't need the people working this case to like him. Just to listen.

"Sir," one of the cadets approached him holding an evidence bag with the index card in it- apparently they were done photographing that bit. "Could you point out who wanted this?" Byakuya pursed his lips faintly but inspected the area behind him before gesturing to Kira who was leaning against the car they had come in with his arms crossed over his chest as though to put some distance between himself and reality.

"Don't bother him," the black haired man ordered as an afterthought- he wanted his men to listen to him and he didn't need rookie cops pestering them.

"Sir," the young man acknowledged again before ducking under the line of tape and making a beeline for the blond profiler. "They're done photographing it," he stated, holding the clear evidence bag out to Kira. "But if you want to take it out please use gloves." It wasn't as though any of the other index cards had revealed anything more than the centered, black ink that made up its quote- no fingerprints, nothing. But that didn't mean they were allowed to break with routine.

Kira nodded and took the bag from him and the cadet started back quickly for the taped area as though realizing that maybe he shouldn't have reminded his superior about proper procedure. The blond barely got a chance to glance down at the black letters (and certainly didn't get to actually absorb the words they formed) before another unmarked car pulled up, parking a couple feet to his left and behind the vehicle he'd arrived in. There was an indistinct exchange of words between the two passengers before the driver's side opened and their force's resident forensic pathologist, Ulquiorra Schiffer, stepped out- Followed quickly by Byakuya's sister in law and the integrator for the case Rukia Kuchiki. The dark haired woman's attention almost immediately locked on to him as she rounded the trunk end of the car, brow knitting faintly as the man she'd ridden over with gave Kira a slight nod of acknowledgement and started over for the actual crime scene without saying anything.

"I think he's annoyed I insisted on riding over with him," she started softly. "I'm not technically supposed to be here… but I heard both you and Renji were here and I couldn't just sit around and twiddle my thumbs…" The red head behind the tape was an old childhood friend and while they'd grown apart and lost contact it was hard not to catch up and make up for lost years when you were working in the same building. Renji had introduced her to Kira and while no one would call them close she liked the blond profiler, quite, polite, reserved- everything Renji wasn't. Watching them had never failed to amuse her. And Momo… She'd been talking to optimistic and romantic woman lately, getting to know her…When it came down to it, it didn't really matter how 'close' to someone you were. Everyone in the building was there to provide support when someone needed it. "Izuru… I'm sorry…" Kira looked at her, the bag containing the index hanging loosely in his grasp at his side.

"Yeah…" he breathed, sounding strained. For all the effort he was putting in to viewing the situation from a disconnected mindset, it wasn't working... Rukia hesitated slightly, draping an arm around him in a sort of half formed but comforting hug before letting it drop back to her side- their height difference and the air hanging around the blond making it sort of awkward.

"Is that the card they left us…?" the petite woman asked, noticing the clear bag. The man beside her glanced down at it as though he'd forgotten it was there in the minute or so they'd been talking but nodded and flipped it over his hand to take in the words once more.

"'We become innocent when we are unfortunate. Jean de la Fontaine,'" he read out loud for the rectangle of white paper before his attention shifted back to the taped off space a couple of yards from them. He didn't want think about the quote's meaning or what it represented until they were done here.

--

Byakuya pursed his lips faintly, glancing at Ulquiorra. They'd done the most they could here- The sidewalk was concrete- no footprints. They'd dusted for fingerprints but just like all the other times before that search had turned up nothing. Other than photographing everything from every angle imaginable there wasn't really anything to go on. It was as clean as you could expect a public bench to be. Of course they would return later to ask the people who lived in the area if they had seen anything but all of the killings, with Momo's being no exception, appeared to have been done some place else with the murderer just getting a little creative with their body dumping method. There was never any blood on the victim's clothes and the wound, though nasty to look at, had been cleaned. Or rather the skin around it had been wiped free of any blood that might have been there when it was fresh.

"Once we're back I'll be able to give you a more exact time," Ulquiorra started, pulling off the gloves he had donned earlier to reveal slim fingers and pale skin. "But I'm placing her death at some point late last night." Renji yanked his gloves off aggressively, brow knit in a scowl. All they had to show for their work so far was a pile of photos that would have to be printed out and then stared at for hours in hopes that they held some sort secret they'd missed the first time around. At least Kira might find them useful, he thought with a sort of bitter twinge, ducking under the tape with the other two men as the cadets were told to finally move Momo and wrap up everything. We're gonna get this guy, he promised silently, glancing over his shoulder as Momo's still somewhat limp corpse was carefully shifted out of its precise position.

"I'll call you when I have everything together for a report," the black haired forensic pathologist continued as they made their way back over to the cars. "But the cause of death is obvious as you saw, just like all the times before. And just like all the times before I wouldn't count on the body revealing any evidence. He isn't about to get sloppy and start making mistakes when his victim is a member of the police force." Ulquiorra had inspected each of the other victims, and while he wasn't officially on the team he might as well have been.

"You think he knew she was police-?" Ichigo questioned quickly, brow half knit.

"I wouldn't know, Kurosaki," was the sort of cool reply. "I am well versed in the inner workings of human bodies but I find the study of our minds to be rather frivolous and unproductive. However Urahara has informed me you now have the services of a profiler. I would suggest asking him if you find you need to know." They came to a sort of dead stop a few feet from the cars as Rukia darted forward and this time there was no hesitation as she draped her arms around Renji in a conciliatory hug. Unlike with Kira she pretty much knew the red head could use some form of grounding contact. The taller man hesitated for a second before returning the gesture, arms dropping back down as she stepped away with a muted apology.

"Kuchiki," the dark haired woman turned at Byakuya's voice. Though they were indeed related by a confusing mess of marriage and adoption that most people had given up on trying to understand, the older man insisted on calling her by her last name the same as anyone else. Sometimes she swore he was harder on her because they were related. "This is a crime scene and you are on my team. Care to explain what you're doing here without my express permission?"

"Comforting people, sir," she replied without missing a beat. Now wasn't the time for the normal, though slight, intimidation she felt around the other to kick in. Byakuya arched an eyebrow slightly but didn't get a chance to say anything as Ichigo stepped forward to grab Rukia's wrist and sort of half tug her in the direction of the car he'd come in.

"Sorry, my fault," he started. "I thought it would be a good idea for her to come with Ulquiorra because she's on the team." The frown on the older man's face at the ginger's lack of formality was almost enough to prompt a half formed and kind of cracked smile to Renji's lips but the expression died before it got a chance to be anything more than a thought.

--

Both Kira and Renji paused slightly as they stepped through the door in to the room the team had claimed for the case. All the photos from the other killings were organized in rows on the walls starting with the first to the most recent. The red head grimaced faintly as he took them in quickly- He'd seen plenty of nasty things but that didn't make a close up of a slit throat of a bullet wound in a forehead any nicer. The room was furnished for functionality, a single table that was roughly in the middle along with monitors on their own private desks off to the side. The wall across from the door was spared the slight grotesque photos and instead had snap shots of former suspects that had turned out to be duds and clumps of post-it notes with tidy hand writing. The whole area was like a shrine to the combination of old techniques and technology that they prided themselves on. Computers and databases had made their jobs ten times faster but sometimes there was nothing better than a good old fashioned mug shot.

"Take a seat," Byakuya stated shortly as they were followed in to the room by Rukia and Ichigo. "Hisagi will be down here shortly when he's finished printing off the photos." Kira's brow knit slightly at the mention of the dark haired man who was a few years older than them and had helped Renji out when he'd first joined the force awhile back. He hadn't realized he was working this case as well… Hisagi spent his time working with tech and covered some of their contact with the press as well- keeping the reporters off their backs and preventing leaks. Byakuya glanced around as they all took seats that were situated in various stages of being pushed in around the table. "Because we know who the victim is this time we're going to start with what she was doing last night. Perhaps she told her roommate where she was going out."

"I know what she was doing," Kira cut in, voice still not quite at its normal tone, as though if he didn't pick and choose his words carefully it would crack. "She came by my office before she left… She had a date… With a man named Sosuke."


End file.
